For the Love of Corn!
CHAPTER II
By Mortybear
I'm sorry that the first chapter was so short…. I have more, I really do!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except for Four Past Midnight (the original novella Secret Window by Stephen King) and the DVD. So there.
Writer's Block Marks- None, so something must be wrong with the world.
Total Days: I wrote it on the way to soccer practice, so only about 10 minutes.
IN LOVING MEMORY OF MR. CORN, OCT. 27/06-OCT. 27/06. He was a yellow balloon. My brother let him go.
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"Oh God." Mort thought. Clara was Amy's mother. His Amy's mother. Those two
words that she had spoken brought back the all-too-vivid memory of an event
that had happened about 3 moths ago, and even he had been trying so hard to
completely obliterate from his memory…. He had murdered Amy. With a shovel.
Well, not consciously, or as he liked to think… maybe. He had murdered Amy
and her boyfriend Ted, and he had buried them in his little garden which had in
turn produced and enormous crop of sweet, buttery corn. He could almost taste
the yellow vegetable right now…. No wonder, that's all you've been eating for
the past 3 months you maniacal Son of a b-tch. "Shut up." Mort whispered
quietly to himself. Apparently not too quietly, "Excuse me, did you say
something?" Clara asked politely on the other line. "I've got to stop talking to
myself." Mort thought. "Oh, no, that was my cat." Mort coughed in a lame cover-
up. Nice. Blame the cat. "Well, I was just calling to say that the funeral is on
Wednsday." She said shakily. "Damn it." Mort thought angrily. He had forgotten
that there was to be a memorial service for Amy and her family was coming
down to (1)Derry. "W-well, it's n-not really a f-funeral because they c-can't f-find
the b-body…" she ha dissolved into miserable sobs. Gee, I wonder why they
can't find the damn body, you lunatic. Mort's conscience said sarcastically.
After and awkward silence Clara said "Well, I'll see you in Derry. After the service
we should come to your house for some drinks, maybe…"
"God knows we'll need them." Mort mumbled.
"Alright Clara. I'll see you on Wednesday." Mort said softly. "Goodbye Mort. I
know that this has been hard on you, with Ted, and the divorce, and-and-…"
Mort interrupted her. "It's been hard on all of us, Clara. I…I still loved her, I
guess. Bye." And abruptly he hung up. "Sh-t," he said resolutely. "just sh-t."
"What the hell am I going to do?" He asked Florence who was rubbing up
against his leg. "More importantly, what are you going to wear?" drawled
some sort of Southern accent. That accent was familiar. All too familiar. Mort
turned around slowly, fearing what he would see but at the same time already
knowing. He was right. John Shooter was back.
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That was where there house was. Before Mort burned it down.
Will Mort be able to finally face Amy's death? Will he finally go truly insane (worse than last time!)? But WHAT WILL HE WEAR TO THE FUNERAL? Find out in the Next chapter of For the Love of Corn By Yours Truly, Mortybear!